Also, he was opposed to any sort of device that might make life easier on me or my two brothers. He wanted us to work hard, sweat and suffer. He’d lived through the Great Depression and World War Two, so he knew all about suffering. According to him, “kids these days’ve got it too easy.” So he did what he could to make life tougher on us.

That’s why I was out there pushing the mower, sweating my ass off, when along came Rusty and Slim.

It was one of those gray mornings when the sun is just a dim glow through the clouds and you know by the smell that rain’s on the way and you wish it would hurry up and get here because the day is so damn hot and muggy.

My T-shirt was off. When I saw Rusty and Slim coming toward me, I suddenly felt a little embarrassed about being without it. Which was sort of strange, considering how much time we’d spent together in our swimming suits. I had an urge to run and snag it off the porch rail and put it on. But I stayed put, instead, and waited for them in just my jeans and sneakers.

“Hi, guys,” I called.

“What’s up?” Rusty greeted me. He meant it, of course, as a sexual innuendo. It was the sort of lame stuff he cherished.

“Not much,” I said.

“Are you working hard, or hardly working?”

Slim and I both wrinkled our noses.

Then Slim looked at my sweaty bare torso and said, “It’s too hot to be mowing your lawn.”

“Tell that to my dad.”

“Let me at him.”

“He’s at work.”

“He’s getting off lucky,” Slim said.

We were all smiling, knowing she was kidding around. She liked my dad—liked both my parents a whole lot, though she wasn’t crazy about my brothers.

“So how long’ll it take you to finish the yard?” Rusty asked.

“I can quit for a while. I’ve just gotta have it done by the time Dad gets home from work.”